Spring has come early this year and the first storks were seen at the end of February already. We took a trip through the country side yesterday and were lucky to find one standing on it’s nest in one of the villages around.
White storks are very much loved in (North-)Germany. It is a sign of good luck and fertility when a stork decides to build a nest on the gables. Many farmers build a with a high pole with a small platform on top to make it possible for a stork to breed.
The legend says that it is the stork bringing the babies, and when I was very small I was told by my grandparents to put sugar on the window-sill. The stork would find it and reward me with a baby brother or sister. Also, when someone gets married in the countryside, people often place a plastic stork on their roof to wish the young couple good luck with having children.
The little girl was happy. She was standing in the living room looking expectantly at her father. He held two beautifully wrapped parcels in his hands. Her mother was smiling, looking happy and relaxed. The sun was shining into the room and the little girl felt excited. She wondered which one of the parcels would be for her. When her father handed her the bigger one her heart started beating a little faster. Was it possible that she would find the pretty doll with the brown hair and blue eyes in it. The one she had been longing for since she first saw it in the shop?
She thanked her father and started unwrapping the parcel. She took off the gift wrapping carefully, then opened the large box. Paper rustled and she felt around the box, surprised to find another parcel. She pulled it out and it, too, was wrapped in beautiful paper. She opened the box, which was still big enough to hold a doll. There was yet another box. Getting a little impatient she ripped off the paper just to find another box waiting for her. And another, until only a small box was left. The little girl felt insecure now. What could be in such a tiny box? A ring? Or a bracelet?
She looked at her father. He was grinning. She opened the last parcel and stared at the thing inside. Her happy smile faded and her face started to crumble as she looked at the tiny piece of black liquorice lying on a white tissue.
The little girl tried not to cry. She felt ashamed for not being able to hide her disappointment.
Her father laughed and made some comment about her face and being greedy. Her mother scolded him for it still holding her own parcel. The father was still laughing when he left the room.
This was written as a response to the DP weekly writing challenge.
I love the morning on weekends.
Mornings during the week are a different matter. The shrill ringing of my alarm clock, followed five minutes later by the insistent buzzing of my mobile’s alarm will tear me away from some dream. I am one of these people who have very colorful and pleasant dreams. Sometimes they are like a film and I am reluctant to wake up because I want to know how the story ends. Therefore I put on the alarm half an hour earlier than necessary. That way I can carry on snoozing until I am ready to face the world.
The first thing I do in the morning (after the unavoidable things like going to the bathroom and brushing my teeth) is grabbing the leash and taking the dog on a walk. After the first five minutes which feel more like sleepwalking I am wide awake and happy to be alive. Especially now in spring I like being up and about around 5.30.
After a quick coffee I have to leave home to drive to work. 12 hours later I return and the first thing I do after getting out of the car and doing the unavoidable (like going to the bathroom and giving my partner a peck on the cheek) is walking the dog again. Afterwards it’s fixing dinner, eating and soon after I am ready to go to bed. Most evenings I am too tired than to do more than read a few pages, ring a friend or watch a film. I hate myself for having become one of these boring people who fall asleep on the sofa, but that’s the way I am these days. I use the night for sleeping. The times when I stayed up until early morning, drinking red wine, smoking cigarettes and having endless discussions about anything and everything are long gone.
Weekends are a different matter. I wake up when I am ready to do so and that is still early enough. After walking the dog I fix myself a big pot of coffee and start working on my blogs. Some of these mornings I start reading the paper or have endless phone conversations with my friends. There is no rush. No place I have to go to! I love these weekend mornings and if they turn out rainy and cold these morning can easily stretch into the afternoon before I am ready to think of such mundane things as doing housework or shopping. Weekend mornings – they are the best part of the week for me!